There's a Place
by Dragon's Daughter 1980
Summary: Even in the magical world, Avalon has only existed as a palce of myth...just like the Chamber of Secrets was just a legend. For over fourteen years, the Isle has been preparing to fight Voldemort. Welcome to the complex world of Avalon.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: This is my own version of Avalon.  I have drawn on ideas introduced by Garth Nix, Susan Cooper, J. R. R. Tolkien, Tamora Pierce, J.K. Rowling and other authors.  I do not mean to infringe on any copyright.  I do not own any of this.  I know this first part is complicated, but it's needed so you won't get lost.  Trust me, _I_ get confused while I'm writing.  Please feel free to give me feedback; _constructive_ criticism is always helpful.  Thanks to Ruth who first read this piece and to Beth who helped me finish it up.

There's a Place…

_Prologue_

Excerpts from_ The Isle of Rest: Avalon & Its Lineage, _written by Sarah and Jacob Tudor, currently inventoried in the Great Library of Avalon.

_"The creation of the Source is a mystery, yet a loose conceptual understanding of what the Source's magical properties are is necessary to understand the studies and practices of Avalon.  The Source cannot be described by employing practical language, only the understanding that It encompasses the universe as we know it gives us the slightest hint of knowledge of this force.  The Source controls Fate, Life, Death, Avalon and the critical balance between good and evil — a scale that if tipped would mean the destruction of all.  Some might even call It the Creator of All, but this designation has both conceptual advantages and disadvantages.  The Source is only a single function of a larger entity — a force that may prove to be beyond the human powers of reason.  But as the authors are focusing only on concepts relevant to Avalon, not the intricate mysteries of the world, so let us not be diverted._

_More than three millennia ago, before King Arthur ruled, Avalon was created by the Source as the initial vehicle of all magical power.  The Source selected people, both magical and non-magical, as Its servants, among them the High Rulers of Avalon: the High Lord and Lady, who serve the Source directly as courtiers of Its intents.  It gifted them with powers necessary to carry out their tasks and allegedly gave the abovementioned servants immortality, though evidence indicates It simply gave them long life spans.  As to the time of this writing, none of Avalon's Children have died natural deaths and only five have died in the service of the High Rulers in the Outer World._

_Avalon was charted to be the fulcrum of balance in the forces of the universe.  It is physically located between Life and Death and was intended to balance both good and evil on its shores.  If the geographical features of the Isle of Avalon closely studied, one would find that there are as many elevated plains as there are depressions.  This was symbolically representative of the Light— the elevated lands — and the Dark — the deep ravines.  However, henceforth events deviated from the Source's original intentions.  The High Rulers would not tolerate immorality on Avalon's shores and thus expelled those who practiced the Dark Arts.  These banished servants of the Source formed their own faction on an island whose location is yet unknown to Avalon at the time of this writing." (Chapter One: Creation)_

_"One of the many responsibilities that the Source placed upon the Isle was the responsibility of guiding deceased souls to the realms of Death.  The heirs of Avalon to this day must guide the dead through the Middle Land, past Avalon and to the Borderland, a shore upon which the dead are transferred to the custody of a deceased relative to guide them into the Lands of the Dead."_

_"Another responsibility that Avalon has assumed over the years is that of the curator of all magical historical and technical annals, becoming the only institution that sees magical traditions long since extinct in the Outer World still passed down from one generation to another.  Magical forces and practices have taken many forms, but the majority of these sects and fractions have faded from the Outer World through the centuries.  For example, the practice of wandless magic has nearly died out in the Outer World.  It has been reduced from the magic that was widely taught as a defensive measure to a petty magical practice used largely for moving furnishings.  The true powers of music have been largely forgotten though its emotional and psychological advantages have not gone unnoticed.  Compared to the average wizard or witch, Avalon-trained wizards and witches are considerably more skilled overall and personify a more formidable opponent to any attackers though Avalon restricts the usage of Avalon magic in the Outer World due to their extreme sensitivity to the disclosure of such powerful magic." (Chapter Twelve: Responsibilities & Duties)_

_"Avalon is protected from the Outer World and invaders by many defensive enchantments and spells.  The most visible among these is the mist that surrounds the Isle and is known as the __Middle__Land__ by the people of Avalon.  While it is not truly land, its name comes from the fact that anyone, be they good or evil, is fair game for the __Middle__Land__ to prey on.  The __Middle__Land__ is rumored to be laced with illusory spells that tempt unwarranted travelers to leave the pathway and become forever lost.  There are ancient tales of monsters who prey on any who try to enter uninvited.  Other such protective magics are the sole knowledge of the High Lady." (Chapter Thirteen: Protections)_

_"There are two classifications of Avalon followers.  There are the purebloods, though the term is used loosely, and the mixed-bloods.  The purebloods are known as the Children of Avalon and are those with heavy Avalon heritage.  They have displayed a tendency of being more talented and skilled_ _at Avalonian magic than those of diluted Avalon blood.  The mixed-bloods, commonly called the Descendents of Avalon, usually have one Avalon Child as a parent and a conventional witch/wizard or a normal man/woman, also known as Muggles, as the other. The term is also applied to those who number an Avalon Child among their forbearers.  There is very little differentiation between the two groups, bloodlines are only distinguished nominally.  Ladies and Lords are Children of Avalon while Masters and Mistresses are Descendents.  Avalon women are called Priestesses and Avalon men are addressed as Druids." (Chapter Sixteen: Social Structures)_

_"While isolated from the Outer World on the Isle, Druids and Priestesses have often ventured out from Avalon on the orders of the High Rulers to serve as agents in the Outer World.  They often commute back and forth between the Isle and the Outer World for Councils that are held regularly in order to inform the High Rulers of the events and conditions of the Outer World.  While there is only one true pathway through the Middle Land, there are in fact many ways to access this route, either through established Walkways or through temporary gateways that can be instituted only for a single usage.  Established Walkways are hidden in various confidential locations and they can only be approached, let alone utilized successfully, by the people of Avalon.  A few examples of Walkway locations are the British Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Le Chateau de Lune.  Though they can be created almost anywhere, temporary gateways are usually constructed near a source of water to facilitate access to Avalon." (Chapter Twenty-Five: The Two Worlds)_

_"In general, Avalon has long faded from the Outer World, buried under myth and remembered only as a place of legend.  The High Lord is remembered as Merlin or Myrddin while the High Lady has been called Nimuë or Vivien, but she is more commonly known only as the Lady of the __Lake__.  Both High Rulers have guided Avalon since its creation and it is believed that they will continue to do so in the days ahead."_

_"While Muggle legend holds that Nimuë lured Merlin to his demise after King Arthur was gravely wounded in battle and magical history tells of Merlin's death at his ancestral home at the hands of his wife, Vivien, the High Rulers are happily married and neither have any homicidal tendencies toward the other.  The mistaken accounts of Merlin's death in both Muggle and magical history cannot be blamed upon the unfortunate scholars who wrote them.  The Lady Nimuë and Lord Merlin conspired to fake his death in order to keep Avalon's true identity a secret and to allow the High Lord to return to his true home."_

_"While the legends and myths of the Outer World paint Avalon as a cult under the leadership of a high priestess, Avalon is neither a cult nor a religion.  It can be considered as an organization.  Many of the Children and Descendents are practicing adherents of Outer World religions.  Religious tolerance is expected on Avalon's shores even when the Outer World is in turmoil in religious wars." (Chapter Thirty-Six: Outer World Perceptions)_

Excerpts from _Avalon's Roles in the Outer World: Twentieth Edition_ complied and edited by Evelyn Whiting, from the library at Hopeford Manor, headquarters of the United Kingdom station.

_"Needing the freedom to move without much notice between magical and non-magical communities, Avalon's network operates in the majority of the countries in the world, with exceptions in areas where it is still too dangerous to blend the two communities.  The majority of Avalon's Descendents live in the non-magical communities as ordinary people who walk all branches of life.  The minority, living in the magical community, have a tendency to occupy governmental positions." (A Brief Introduction, pg vii)_

_"There are six main centers of communications, one for each of the inhabited continents, that are headed by high ranking Priestesses and Druids.  Depending on the country's size and population, every country has at least one regional headquarters that is commanded by trusted Priestesses and Druids in charge of handling information and managing affairs.  For example, the __United States of America__ has six regional headquarters, and therefore, six commanders who report to the Priestess in charge of the North American continent.  Despite its population and size, the United Kingdom has only one regional headquarters due to the presence of Avalon nearby.  These regional headquarters are often called stations or outposts to avoid confusion with the continental headquarters." (The Basics, pg 5)_

_"Since the founding of various Avalonian schools throughout the world, the ranks of Descendents who have knowledge of Avalon have increased slowly.  Still, there are large numbers of Descendents who are ignorant of their lineage and relation to Avalon.  The problem has been slowly rectified as those of the non-magical community are invited and taught at these schools.  The regional leaders are expected to take charge of the general running of the schools under their jurisdiction and often, though not always, the deputy head of the school is also the deputy head of the station." (Education, pg 20)_

_"At the British Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the French Academy Beauxbatons, station leaders also assume command of the Night Guards, or, in French, Les Gardiens de la Nuit, groups of elite students trained in Avalonian magic who aide the schools' faculties in the running the schools and ensuring the well-being of their fellow students.  The majority of the students are recruited from non-magical families or magical families with extensive knowledge of non-magical society.  All students are of Avalonian lineage and are trained in Avalonian arts.  Since their creation in 1985, the Night Guards have existed without the knowledge of the students and the majority of the faculty." (The Night Guards, pg 50)_


	2. Chapter One: Verba de futro

There's a Place…

By Phoenix's Melody

Chapter One: Verba de futro

Christmas Eve, 1975

Isle of Avalon

_There's a place, so I heard, not so long ago_

_Troubled souls, welcome there, far from all we know…_

A chorus of children's voices rose inside the snowbound building, its white marble reflecting the light of the snow sharply as if it was a beacon of hope for the hopeless and weary.

Inside the building, in one of its many stone rooms, a woman sat by her warm fire, her light blue Roman tunic flowing to the ground. Normally bound silver hair cascaded down her back and her moonstone crown rested on the fireplace mantle instead of her head. The woman's face, lovely in her youth, had grown more majestic as the years passed. Indeed, she had seen thousands of summers in her lifetime and expected to see many more before she died.

But while others were celebrating and preparing for a lively revel of holiday cheer, her forehead was winkled with worry as she stared emptily into the flames, her jade eyes having lost their usual serenity, and a hopelessness so deeply ingrained in her delicate features that if any of her followers had saw, they too would have succumbed to the same despair that threatened her of late. Fear, discouragement, and despair all played across her face: they were the feelings she fought hard to hide by day and the ones that caused her tears by night.

'_How can we prevail against one so strong? He has already penetrated our secrecy, broken vows forged by an ancient power, made one of our own betray us…I ask, how can we win this war?_' she though to herself. The woman did not react in any way when a voice answered her thoughts aloud.

"By doing what I say, Nimuë," replied a disembodied male baritone voice that echoed in the room. Nimuë looked sharply away from the fire. "The war against the Dark One will be won by Avalon if you do exactly as I say," the voice repeated as if Nimuë was slow on the uptake.

"No, I will not. Not at the cost of more lives." Nimuë clenched her hands in defiance.

"You dare disobey me?" The baritone voice sounded vaguely amused at her revolt. Nimuë was not pleased.

"I will not make Hannah give up her daughter," Nimuë said fiercely.

"The separation from her mother is unfortunate, but even family ties must yield at times to a greater cause. You should well know this, High Lady."

"Even so, Hannah cannot possibly be ready for it; not after what _you_ put her through with Agathocles. My husband is still with me! My daughter was of age when she left my side; it is nothing compared to what you ask of Hannah! I cannot expect her to fare well with her daughter gone as well! I will _not_ send Alice away. I simply will not!"

"In the end you will," the voice informed her. Even though Nimuë felt she had to make the Source understand her reasoning, she refrained from further comments and bit back her reply. She was not foolish enough to make the Source angry with her.

"As to other matters," the baritone voice said curtly, but a firm female alto interrupted him rather rudely.

"For Source's sake, you shouldn't be so hard on her," the alto scolded the baritone before turning her attention to Nimuë. "Now, High Lady, you may act as you see fit for the moment. But remember, you are bound to the Source — and Alice must be raised in the Outer World if the Dark One is to be defeated."

Nimuë sighed and ran her hands over her face before replying softly, "I never seem to have a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice Nimuë," the alto replied gently. "But what are the consequences you have to face for your choices?" Her companion cut in, saying, "I was under the impression that _I_ was to address the Lady tonight."

"I feel it's my duty to intervene if you are incapable of doing so _gracefully_," the alto snapped back in reply.

"Why must Alice grow up in the Outer World? Why at this time? Why, when the tide of Darkness is rising?" Nimuë asked, still looking down at the floor, her voice betraying her frustration with the Source.

"She will eventually grow to become a liaison between your Outer World ally, Professor Dumbledore, and Avalon. It is for her own protection that she must learn magic as it is used in the Outer World if she is to work successfully between two worlds."

"We have no Outer World ally," Nimuë pointed out flatly, looking away from the ground.

The Source let out an embarrassed chuckle before corrected Itself, saying, "You will have one soon through the connections of Master Harold and Mistress Ruth Berkeley." As if sensing Nimu's continued unease, the Source added, "Alice is still young, her role is for the future. She will not leave her mother for now."

Nimuë nodded reluctantly as if the Source could see her agreement.

"As to more pressing matters…the Dark One has sought out the ways of immortality," the baritone said grimly. Nimu's breath caught. '_Immortality?__ The Dark One dares to disrupt the Balance? He seeks something that is not even granted to Avalon?_'

"Yes, Voldemort dares to disrupt the Balance and seek what is not his. Nimuë, long life has been given to you and your followers."

"Both boon and burden," Nimuë whispered softly. The Source continued as if she had not spoken.

"But everyone has a time to die. That holds true for all, even for the Children."

"I know. Six have proven it." Nimuë returned her glaze to the fire. There was silence in the chamber as all remembered the fallen: Actaeon, Eugenie, Gavin, Evangeline, Sonya, and Brandon. All six were loyal to the end. One was lost in a fatal accident, the others lost in war: two in battle and three because of betrayal.

"There's a place, so I heard, where the living's slow…Pain, they say, ebbs away, as the rivers flow…There's a place, so I heard, waiting there for me…Free from care, life is there for eternity…" Nimuë could almost see in her mind the looks of innocence and blissful ignorance on the faces of the performers. Avalon was their sanctuary, their shelter from the storm of violence in the Outer World, their haven from the malice of Voldemort.

"No more fear, no regret, there's no price to pay…Restless heart soon will ease when you know the way." The voice of the choir soared through the heavenly notes as if those in the Outer World would be able to hear the words and take advantage of the refuge offered by the Isle.

"It is a very lovely song Nimuë," said the baritone, paying a compliment, "one that almost characterizes Avalon."

"Thank you. It comes from the Outer World."

"As to our original topic," the baritone said. Nimuë stiffened, preparing to go through the same argument with the Source over the fate of little Alice, who was barely half a year old, and her young mother, Hannah.

"It has been decided that a child will be given the power to rectify the disruption that Voldemort has caused."

"A child? Alice?" Nimuë was alarmed and aghast at the Source's intention.

"No, not Alice, Nimuë. But, yes, a child. Have you an objection to voice, Nimuë?"

"Have I an objection? Of course I have am objection!" Nimu's grip on her temper was slipping.

"The child will not be alone and defenseless Nimuë," the baritone said sharply. It was clearly irritable at Nimu's defiance that night. "The Source will aid him as well as Avalon and the Outer World. He will be the downfall of Voldemort."

"When will he come?" Nimuë asked, still feeling heavy misgivings about the fate of the child.

"That is not for you to know yet. He will come eventually — if you do all that you must."

Nimuë resisted the urge to tell the Source exactly how much it vexed her that night with all the orders she had been issued. She never liked it when the baritone ordered her around. The alto voice was much kinder and less galling when it came to persuading Nimuë to agree to Its intentions.

"Is there any other piece of infinite wisdom that you wish to impart to Your humble servant?" Nimuë said, struggling to sound as collected and calm as she could. There was no answer to her query. The presence had vanished. The Source had gone. Nimuë sighed and rose from her sturdy chair. She straightened her tunic, pinned her hair up into a bun and placed her crown on her head.

A knock on her door made her turn around with a smile. Merlin always had such good timing when it came to dealing with her after a meeting with the Source. He opened the door and entered, taking her into his arms.

"Dearest," he said softly, "are you ready for the holiday celebrations? It is Christmas Eve."

"Of course I am ready," Nimuë said, drawing on the calming influence her spouse's personality gave off.

Merlin studied his wife with a critical eye, noting the smoldering irritability in her eyes and the stiffness of her body despite all she did to conceal it. He knew that her conversation with the Source had not gone well, or at least, not to her liking. Both of them chafed under the guidance of the Source at times. Merlin knew better than to question Nimuë about what had conspired between her and the Source in the privacy of her study. He was ask her later, when she was in a better and more rational mood.

So he did what he usually did to distract her from her brooding thoughts — he kissed her. Oh, it wasn't romantic, if romantic meant a long passionate kiss that was only an interlude to something much more intimate. No, it was a simple brief kiss that was filled with affection and empathy and the love that longtime spouses share with each other; the kind soulmates share.

When they parted, Nimuë smiled knowingly and lovingly at her husband of three millennia. She reached to brush his cheek as he did the same with hers.

"You know me too well, dearest," she said fondly.

"I know," he replied playfully. He took her hand, still lily-soft despite the years, and raised her delicate fingers to his lips, his amber eyes never leaving hers. His other hand dropped from brushing her cheek down to catch her hand. "I also know that if we do not hurry, we will be tardy for the celebrations."

"Then let us go." Hand in hand, they swept off in the direction of the festivities, once more the stately High Lord and Lady of Avalon. The depressing and distressing issues of the year were put away in some dusty corner to await the end of New Year's celebrations.

* * *

Author's Note: The title of this chapter is Latin (and apparently Spanish too). It translates into "words about the future." Many thanks to Ruth and Beth for their advice and suggestions.

Disclaimer: The lyrics used here is from the Opera Babes' debut CD "Beyond Imagination." I have drawn on ideas introduced by various authors. Anything you might even vaguely recognize does not belong to me.


	3. Chapter Two: Adeste Fideles Part One

There's a Place

By Phoenix's Melody

Chapter Two: Adeste Fideles (Part One)

July 31st, 1981

Isle of Avalon

"Who goes there?"

A calm female voice rang out into the deathly still night air, following an ancient ritual established long before she was born.

"Here are only Children of Avalon and a guest who comes at the High Lord's bidding, Lady of the Watch."

"Then enter, my Siblings, with your guest."

The barge bumped hard against land and one of the figures onboard pitched forward, evidently still not used to the landing that his companions were prepared for. Before the man could lose his dignity by falling facedown into the marshy shore, two of his companions quietly steadied him while the other passengers pretended that they were occupied with other matters and had seen nothing.

"Please, this way sir," one of the male passengers said politely to the tall headmaster, who nodded. His face was unreadable as he was led off the barge onto the island into a sinister-looking forest which pierced the clear starry sky. A light breeze came off of the water, making his companions' cloaks flare-out like butterfly wings as they parted company: some headed towards a tall white building in the distance; others disappeared into the clusters of homes nestled among the hills; and a few followed the same path into the forest.

Flora Williams shivered slightly in the fog. Her sister stood next to her on the barge as they drifted through the gray mist. Both women were dressed in long white robes reminiscent of Roman tunics. Both had also wisely thrown warm cloaks over their uniforms to ward off the cool summer night air.

"I have to say, the High Lady certainly chose a strange time for this Council," murmured Angela Defleur.

"Don't complain, Angela; it could be worse," her younger sister replied. "At least she didn't call you out of a Ministry of Magic meeting. _That_ would raise questions, and we can't afford questions about your loyalty right now."

"I know, Flora." Angela sighed quietly, her face clearly troubled by the dangers that faced her Auror colleagues at the Ministry. "Still, a sudden call in the middle of night, especially now, is just not safe. If Albert hadn't been so involved with the Cooper murders, I wouldn't have been able to get away. It will be a pain getting away from him when we get married. And I _still_ haven't traced his bloodlines. What did you say to James?" Angela inquired after Flora's wizard husband.

"Nothing," Flora frowned. "I couldn't find him at all. He has been disappearing a lot lately."

"You couldn't find him in the middle of the night? Your devoted husband who usually trails you night and day and makes it nearly impossible for you to answer the High Lady's summons could _not_ be found by your bedside tonight?" Angela turned to look disbelievingly at her sister.

"No, he said he had a late night at work…though I can't imagine what business could possibly keep him until three in the morning." Flora shook her head. "I mean, if he was an Auror I could understand, but he's off-duty from St. Margo's this week…"

"Has he been acting strangely lately…?" Angela trailed off.

"Watch your step," Flora said sharply, "before it becomes your undoing. You've spent too much time at the Ministry. You're getting cynical. No, he wouldn't be unfaithful. He's not that kind of man. And don't even think about him being a Death Eater!"

"I'm sorry. I know James is the faithful type, but you see things in my line of work…betrayals of the worst kind….and you did say he was a bit elusive about his past."

"As if I wasn't myself!" Flora replied. "For Lady's sake, there are just some things you _don't_ abruptly tell your mortal spouse _without_ preamble if you don't want your marriage to fall apart. The Isle is one of them; could you imagine his reaction if he found out that I am a Daughter of Avalon? And besides, his bloodlines don't matter! You know that we marry for love, not for blood! Not like them!"

"You do know that you were supposed to tell him before you married?" Angela shot her sister a disgruntled look.

"I was not expecting him to elope with me!"

"You could have told him afterwards! There's no excuse for not telling him Flora!"

"There is if you're too caught up in the moment!"

"And what about after the moment has passed?" retorted Angela.

"When did that ever happen? I believe that we are in the middle of a war!" snapped Flora.

"How about when you two are alone together," came the sarcastic reply, "That might be an opportune time!"

"Oh, so I am supposed to roll over in bed and say 'Dear, there is something that I need to tell you.' And then proceed to dump the news on him abruptly. Would that work for you?" asked Flora, exasperated.

"Yes!"

Flora was wordless at her sister's reprimand. Angela rarely let her fiery tempter get the better of her. But Angela was unusually upset and angry that night. She had ample reason to be. She was an Auror and her coworkers were dying around her every day. Someone close to her had Walked that night; someone dear to her heart. The sisters looked away from each other, each gathering her thoughts. There was an uneasy silence on the barge.

"I'm sorry Flora," Angela said finally.

"It's okay. I think I'm glad you're still here to yell at me," said Flora, turning towards Angela and putting a hand on her shoulder. "I was scared out of my wits yesterday when Albert owled to tell me that you nearly got yourself killed arresting Rabastan Lestrange."

"I'll be more careful next time we go on a raid," Angela replied grimly as she thought of her coworker, John McKinnon, who had been killed a few hours earlier. She looked out into the mist, wondering if John had passed by Avalon already and who had guided, or was guiding, him to the Lands of the Dead.

"I'm sorry about John." Flora knew that his death would hit Angela hard. After all, the two had been romantically involved during their teenage years and had remained close friends after they parted ways. All Flora could do was to offer her support and a shoulder to cry on.

Flora shifted her weight as if she was smoothing some ruffled feathers back into place. She sighed, "Angela, how am I going to tell James, especially now? What if he doubts me?"

"You don't have a choice," Angela murmured heavily. "If he comes, James needs that protection we offer. You have to tell him a little bit at a time I suppose. I have to tell Albert soon…somehow."

"Well, at least James isn't an Auror… He's not that cynical." Flora's voice was just slightly hopeful.

"We are cynical of others because of what we see when we go to work every day."

"Don't think the hospital staff doesn't get cynical and jaded by the bodies that come every day."

"When will this end?"

"I haven't a clue. But soon, I pray, soon."

The sisters fell silent as the faintest outlines of a massive island appeared out of the thick fog. As they approached, the sisters could see the hills and valleys that dotted the ancient land and towering over it all, the white temple in which celebrations were held. Both women had accepted their vows there: swearing loyalty and faithfulness to the High Rulers. And when both women finally revealed Avalon's existence to their spouses, they would celebrate a wedding beneath the domed roof of the temple, having their marriage officially recognized and protected.

Funerals were also held in the glowing building. There had been only seven funerals of Children in the history of Avalon; one had been held only a few months ago as Voldemort began to attack Avalonian families. Flora and Angela had not known the Lord Druid well, but they mourned his death just the same. It was another reason for Avalon to fight the Dark One: to gain revenge.

"Who goes there?" a woman's voice demanded from the swirls of mist.

"Two Daughters of Avalon return at the High Lady's summons, Lady of the Watch," Angela called out into the darkness. The sisters waited for a reply.

"Then welcome to the Isle, my Sisters," the Lady of the Watch said. The barge, which had been halted in its progress towards the island when the Lady of the Watch had demanded its passengers identify themselves, moved forward once more. With a gentle lurch, the barge bumped against the sacred land that few outside those of Avalon's blood dared tread.

A young woman, no older than twenty-five, stood at the water's edge with a silver bell in hand. In the moonless night, she could only be distinguished from the hillside by light blue dress she wore, outlined by the silver cloak draped around her. A small watch fire burned in a ring of stones next to her. The woman pushed back a stray blond curl as she smiled weakly in greeting as Angela and Flora stepped off the bobbing barge.

"Sister Hannah, how goes the Watch?" Flora inquired.

"Fine, fine for a busy night," Hannah Durningham replied a little too quickly and sounding distant as she laid the silver bell on the grass. "The High Lady would speak to you about a matter of importance," she added more formally.

"Hannah, why is your daughter Alice out here with you on the Watch?" Angela asked, concerned. Flora heard a quiet sigh and saw the pile of blankets that was at Hannah's feet. She also noted Hannah's forced cheerfulness. Hannah's face was white. Flora had presumed it was from the cool breeze that seemed chilly after the summer's sun, but upon closer scrutiny, she saw that Hannah had been crying.

"Hannah, what's wrong?" Flora asked quietly, dropping all formality as she put a comforting hand on Hannah's silver-cloaked shoulder. Hannah sank down onto a stone and buried her face in her hands as she began to shake with sobs. The sisters exchanged worried looks and knelt down on the ground next to her.

"I — The High Lady — I am to give Alice — I am to give her to the Outer World," Hannah gasped between sobs.

"What?" Flora exclaimed quietly as Angela asked, "When?"

Hannah took a few calming breaths before replying, "The High Lady has asked me to give Alice into the care of a Descendent who will raise my daughter in the Outer World."

"I cannot believe that she would do such a thing to you, not after Aga — ," Flora murmured. Hannah held up a shaking hand, and stopped Flora from speaking any further.

"No, please, don't speak of him," pleaded Hannah with pain in her voice.

"I'm sorry," Flora said, apologetic. Angela looked away from Hannah, who did not miss the guilt written on Angela's features. Hannah laid a gentle hand on Angela's arm.

"Don't burden yourself, Sister," Hannah said quietly. "You chose your path and follow it faithfully. When you arrested him, it was your duty to do so. Agathocles chose his own path. The Source gave him a chance to escape; one he didn't take—not for me, and not for Alice. He has been dead to me since that night; I must learn to move on. It's not your fault that I mourn still."

The three friends shared a moment of silence after Hannah's words. Six years ago, Angela, being an Auror, had arrested Hannah's Death Eater husband for treason to Avalon and turned him over to the High Rulers for punishment. It had devastated Hannah, but she held no grudge against her old friend. Then Angela asked, "Did the High Lady say why?"

"No, she was upset when she talked to me, which makes me think that the Source forced her to order this separation. But I also think it has something to do with why she wants to talk to you tonight."

Angela immediately looked at her sister. Unconsciously, Flora's hand had gone to her stomach. Hannah did not need to ask to know that Flora was expecting her first child.

"I could hardly think she will ask the same thing of you that she has asked of me…" Hannah's voice trailed off. She suddenly grasped the sisters' hands.

"Promise me, if I let Alice go, promise me that both of you will watch over her," she said with the fierceness and desperation of a protective mother.

"I promise, Hannah," Angela said, "with all that Fate allows me to wield, I will watch over Alice."

"I too pledge this, my Sister," Flora said, squeezing Hannah's hand gently. Tears ran down Hannah's face again and she embraced the sisters in turn.

"Thank you, thank you," whispered Hannah. She wiped away her tears as Angela asked, "Do you know who Alice's guardian will be?"

Hannah did not answer; instead, her attention was focused out on the water. She stood up, hearing something in the mist. The faint birdcall of the blue jay signaled that a barge was approaching. Flora and Angela fell silent. The soft creaking of wood drifted across the water.

"Who goes there?" Hannah called.

"Only Sons of Avalon who return to the Isle at the summons of Merlin, the High Lord, Lady of the Watch. May we enter?" a familiar voice called across the water. Flora turned white and grasped her sister's arm for support.

"Well, I think James' late night business just got explained," said Angela matter-of-factly to Flora who had been shocked wordless. "You're also saved the trouble of telling him," continued Angela who sounded almost cheerful at the fact. If she wasn't so shaken, Flora might have playfully slapped her sister for that comment.

Hannah shot a puzzled look at her friends before replying into the mist, "Then welcome to the Isle, my Druid Brothers."

The barge, full of men, soon touched against the Isle and the Druids disembarked. The men passed the three hooded Priestesses without a word. Flora reached out a hand and, by luck or by intuition, caught her husband's arm as he passed by. He stopped, turning to face the Priestess with words of greeting on his lips. But the words never left his lips as he looked into his wife's steady hazel eyes. Shock crossed his robust features.

"Flora, what are you doing here?" James demanded.

"Might I ask the same of you?" Flora replied, trying to subdue her shaken mind.

"I-I — you're not supposed to be here my dearest," James said with forced calm. His eyes widened as he took in his wife's dress. Flora surveyed his Druid clothing and a slight smile graced her lips as she appreciated how handsome he looked in them.

James's eyes returned to meet his wife's. "You serve Nimuë?" he asked slowly.

"As you serve Merlin," Flora said pointed out, while marveling at the same time how things worked themselves out.

"If we had told each other before we married…" James trailed off.

"It would have saved us a lot of needless worry. Tell me Fate doesn't have a sense of humor."

"Apparently Fate saw it fit for us to be husband and wife forever."

Hannah cleared her throat quietly, "Sisters, the High Lady has patience. Brother James, the High Lord awaits your presence."

"We'll talk later," Flora said quietly as James took her hand.

"And we will tell each other everything," James said, giving Flora a swift kiss on the lips before he strode away up the hill towards the clearing where his Siblings were gathering. Angela and Flora exchanged quick good-byes and reassurances with Hannah before hurrying up to the temple to meet the High Lady.

Author's Note/Disclaimer: The title of this chapter translates from Latin into "Be present, faithful ones." Thanks to Ruth and Beth for all of their help and advice. Anything that seems familiar does not belong to me.

Further Note: I'm sorry for the long wait. I'll try to update as often as I can, but things are beginning to deteriorate into chaos. I'm beginning to suffer from what a lot of other student-writers suffer: school, stress, homework, exams, and sleep deprivation.


	4. Chapter Three: Adeste Fideles Part Two

There's A Place

By Phoenix's Melody

Chapter Three: Adeste Fideles (Part Two)

July 31st, 1981

Isle of Avalon

The forest clearing was a natural gathering place, large enough to hold all of the Children of Avalon, a good hundred thousand in number, when they were gathered. Towards one end of the clearing, a small hill provided a natural podium that was reserved for the usage of the High Rulers. Torches ringed the clearing, their flames spelled to give off only light and not to set the overhanging tree branches on fire. At that moment, the clearing was partially filled with Children and some Descendents of Avalon who were clustered here and there in groups, talking amongst themselves in low voices, exchanging tidings from around the world. At the foot of the small hill, the High Lord was seated on a stool, speaking to a seated, elderly stranger in wizard robes who James had recently begun to see on the Isle in the company of either the High Lord or Lady, but had never spoken to before. James saw Merlin raise a beckoning hand in his direction. James complied, approaching the two men.

"My High Lord Merlin," James said, giving the immortal wizard a half-bow. Merlin nodded at him in greeting.

"James, may I introduce you to Professor Albus Dumbledore," Merlin said pleasantly. James noted the way the guest had started when his name was mentioned. Merlin probably had also noticed his guest's reaction, but ignored it out of politeness.

"Professor, this is James Williams, one of my Sons. He has served me quite well in the Outer World where you live." Merlin's voice had a touch of pride in it, which was rare; and James had to wonder if he had misinterpreted the High Lord's tone.

"I am pleased to meet you," Dumbledore said with sincerity, offering his hand.

"As am I, Professor," James replied graciously as he shook Dumbledore's hand. James forced himself not to look away when the man's light blue eyes focused on his brown ones.

"Professor Dumbledore is the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. His organization is fighting the Dark One single-handedly."

"I really must protest your claim. The Ministry, while it has some problems, has tried its best to help," Dumbledore said modestly, looking away. The High Lord had a look of utter skepticism on his face as he replied, "From what you have told me, the Ministry has made little to no headway against the corruption that is plaguing it since we last spoke a month ago."

"But at least they are trying."

"High Lord?" James asked quietly, wanting to be dismissed. Merlin nodded and James left the two powerful wizards to speak privately.

"James," a dark-haired man with Asian features called, beckoning him towards a cluster of people.

"Robert," James replied in greeting as he joined the circle.

"How are things going?" Robert Chou, a Muggle lawyer asked. "Have you found the records yet?"

"It's like searching for a needle in a haystack," James replied glumly. "Even despite the fact that they're not going through a war at the moment, the record-keeping back then for single-mothers was scanty in non-magical hospitals. And their records are a bloody mess anyway! My sources are turning up nothing! Do you have _any_ idea what it's like trying to find records from a year ago, much less _thirty_-something years ago? Are you _sure_ there's something important in Mrs. Riddle's hospital records that could help us?"

"That's what my informant told me," Robert shrugged.

The High Lady Nimuë sat on a high wooden stool in her private chambers, waiting for two of her best Outer World agents to arrive. She was troubled by what she had learned from the Source, the all-encompassing force she was sworn to serve. It had brought her both joy and sorrow in the years of her service. Nimuë thought of those who had died doing what she had asked. '_Seven Children…Bernard, the fourth betrayed…such losses…and then there are the ones who betray Avalon…for power…in stupidity…and the Law that governs Avalon is merciless…_'

Her eyes drifted to the silver basin that sat next to a crystal pitcher. The clear, undisturbed water in the basin seemed harmless, yet only an hour before heartbreaking events from the Outer World had rippled across its surface. '_How much longer can the violence go on before Avalon is forced to reveal its existence once again to the Outer World? How many more have to die? How long will it be before Voldemort attacks the Isle, thirsty for the knowledge stored on our shores?_'

Soft footsteps echoed down the stone corridors, bringing the High Lady back to the present. The wooden door of her study creaked open. Her light blue dress rippling, Nimuë stood to greet her guests.

"Angela and Flora, my Daughters, welcome." Nimuë's voice had the lilt of a morning songbird and the gentleness of a mother lulling her child to sleep.

"Thank you, High Lady." The sisters made as if to curtsey, but their leader raised a graceful hand to stop them.

"Please, what I speak of will need no formality. Save that for the Council. Please, sit. Tell me, Angela how does the battle against the Dark One go?" Her two followers obeyed her wishes and sat down on two stools.

"Not well. Albus Dumbledore and his followers, the Order of the Phoenix, are trying their best, but they are only a secret organization. The government is in complete disarray. The Aurors are losing people almost daily."

"Just as the Source said it would be," Nimuë whispered. She sighed and shook her head. The flickering light danced on her silver hair that was pulled back from her lined face in a bun.

"And tell me, Angela, how fares the Potter family?"

"Voldemort still seeks them with a vengeance," Angela said quietly, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. "James and Lily are taking steps to protect themselves. However, James refuses to resign from the DMLE." Flora was worried about the young son of the Potters. Few, if any, survived after the Dark One decided that he wanted them dead and the Dark One wanted the Potters dead for some odd reason. _Why the Potters? Why a half-blood family? Why ignore the Longbottoms?_ Flora thought.

"And how fares the Longbottom family?"

"Alice and Frank have also refused to leave the Aurors' ranks," Angela replied in a distracted voice.

"John McKinnon is at peace, Angela," the High Lady said sympathetically. Angela nodded; her face still troubled.

"Forgive me, Flora, for neglecting you, but I needed the news from Angela. Flora, what day is it? I have lost track of the Outer World, for time runs differently here in Avalon…" Nimuë turned to gaze out her window, while Flora and Angela exchanged puzzled looks. Nimuë had great power and would certainly know beyond a doubt what day it was in the Outer World.

"It is the last day of July," Flora replied.

"So the child has wintered one circle of seasons and comes of age for what must be done," the High Lady said, more to herself than her two agents. She sighed again, quietly, to herself. She turned to face the sisters again.

"I apologize. I was lost in my thoughts. There is something I need for both of you to do for me in the Outer World that I cannot do myself. I wish for you to teach Avalon's secrets to the children of our descent."

Angela's rigorous Auror training was probably the only thing that prevented her from voicing her reaction to her leader's statement aloud. Flora, being a Healer, did not possess the same training that her sister had to control her expressions, but was still able to hold onto some semblance of composure that fooled neither of her companions. She swallowed several times before mustering up the courage to say, "I beg your pardon, but—Vivien, if any were to join—," Flora fumbled as she tried to find the right words, "he would be almost undefeatable—the risks—we've already lost so many— " Flora faltered, unsure of how to continue on without being offensive to the High Lady. Nimuë looked at her agents, a little uncertain why they were so concerned with her request until the present reasserted itself over the visions from the Source that had clouded her mind.

"I am sorry," said Nimuë. "I am much preoccupied these days. I do not mean for you to commence on this project immediately. No. Not now, certainly not now. When this is over and things have settled down, then I will ask this of you. Until then… You are right. If our knowledge were to find their way into his hands now, Avalon's very existence would be at stake, not to mention the Balance."

Taking in the still-shocked and shaken expressions on Angela and Flora's faces, Nimuë murmured, "Perhaps I should start from the beginning…"

She glanced out of the window again before she began to explain. "One year ago tonight, a child was born; one who will command our alliance and eventually defeat the Dark One once and for all. The Source has seen it fit that I should be informed that the Dark One will soon suffer a disabling blow—one that will take several years for him to recover from, but will not purge us of him forever. Voldemort will return. And this child, when he is grown, must face him and do what we cannot: banish Voldemort to bring him to judgment before the Source."

The High Lady looked frustrated that the Dark One would not be defeated permanently soon, but there was also a mingled look of sadness and acceptance beneath the anger. Centuries had taught her to accept the Source's orders, though on occasion, Nimuë would revolt.

"I know that both of you have taken vows to protect Avalon and her forgotten magic from the Outer World and from those who would wish to posses our power and use it destructively, but the time is coming when our knowledge must spread beyond these shores. As Children of Avalon, you can aid this child as he grows, but there are simply not enough of you to be of much use. You know that Avalon's work is accomplished more through influence and connections in useful places than in blatant displays of power. Our Descendents number much more than us, the so-called "purebloods," and have more freedoms to move about in the Outer World than we do. It may prove that our side will benefit from our Descendents' connections in government and other areas. They may be the key to our victory."

"Forgive me High Lady, but may I ask why you cannot teach in the Outer World?" Angela asked hesitantly.

"I would not be trusted in the Outer World. I have no background for others to base their judgments on. If I were to reveal who I am, even then none would trust me. To the Outer World, my husband was killed by my hand; no loving parent would commit their child to the care of a murderess, even a perceived one."

"What would you have us do?" Flora inquired. "How much time do we have to train these children?"

"There are a few years for us to be ready to aid this child. We must use what little time we have to prepare our people for battle."

"Schools then, High Lady?" Angela suggested quietly.

"Yes, Angela, but seek ways to limit the Ministry's oversight of your curriculum, if possible, or at the very least, avoid their close scrutiny. I should not need to elaborate the consequences of the Ministry's interference. They might mean well, but they are not sworn to protect our secrets. There are as many friends of ours in the Ministry as there are enemies. Your professors need not be of Avalon blood and it would be perhaps best that they are not."

"High Lady," Flora pointed out, "the Outer World has forgotten so much of Avalon's power and some things are just best left forgotten. We have within our reach knowledge that none but the Source should possess and powers that none but the Source should wield. What should we teach these children?"

"Avalon magic as well as the power of music," said the High Lady after a few moments of thought.

"Wandless magic then, as it was practiced in the days when you both walked in the Outer World by King Arthur's side?" confirmed Flora.

"Yes."

Nimuë's voice went from serious to slightly teasing as she said to Flora, "That reminds me…my Daughter, you are with a child so soon after your Outer World marriage and before your Avalon marriage vows. What shall Fate throw next?"

Flora blushed as she replied, "I was getting around to making arrangements. It was just that there were other…_pressing_ matters to take care of first."

The silvery tinkling of bells drew the attention of the three women and their conversation ceased. Angela stood up and carefully removed Nimuë's white cloak from its hook at the same moment the High Lady touched it. Nimuë looked at her agent with a grateful expression and Angela nodded in return as she let go of the soft material. The cloak swirled around the High Lady as she draped it across her shoulders and fastened the ornate silver clasp. Flora, meanwhile, had gone to open the door to the chambers.

"The Council calls, my Daughters. Please, walk with me." The High Lady's voice became formal.

"Very well High Lady." Angela and Flora fell into step behind the High Lady's white cloak as she stepped out into the corridors, escorting her to the clearing where the Children of Avalon were gathering. The trio passed through dreary stone corridors that, with the creak of an old wooden door, changed to gleaming white marble that reflected the weak starlight coming in through the second-level balcony windows. Lanterns hung from ornamental metal hooks, their flickering light creating a welcoming, yet aloof, atmosphere.

They passed by the massive wood doors that were utilized normally for Avalon marriages, in which non-Avalon spouses would gain the same protective spells and charms as their Avalon spouses; for the rite of passage ceremonies for adolescents who were ready to serve the High Rulers, or for the somber funerals of Descendents and Children that were beginning to occur with far too much frequency those days. Instead, Angela held open the small iron service door that was tucked away in a small corner of the temple. Once out in the night air, the three women then took a winding dirt path down the hillside to the valley in which Council was held among the ancient trees.

**  
Author's Note/Disclaimer**: Thanks to Ruth and Beth for all of their help and advice. Anything that seems familiar does not belong to me. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter Four: Adeste Fideles Part Three

There's A Place

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

* * *

Chapter Four: Adeste Fideles (Part Three)

July 31st, 1981

Isle of Avalon

Upon seeing his wife appear at the other end of the clearing, Merlin politely excused himself from an engaging conversation with his guest and stood. Nimuë moved gracefully through the crowd, which parted to let her though, and to her husband's side. The couple and Dumbledore then moved up the hillside to become visible to everyone present.

"Hello, Professor," Nimuë smiled slightly as Dumbledore made a slight bow. "Thank you for joining us tonight," the High Lady said quietly before turning her attention to the gathered crowd and raising her voice so that all could hear her.

"My Children, welcome. We thank you for your prompt answer to our summons."

"We are in your service and in the service of Avalon," the gathering replied as one underneath the overlapping branches of the gnarled trees.

"Tonight we have a guest in our midst," said the High Lord smoothly. "He has been gracious in accepting our invitation here. I have called tonight's Council concerning the war against the Dark One. Who wishes to report first?"

One by one, the assembled Children came forth with their tidings from the Outer World. The news was both encouraging and dispiriting. The resistance against the Dark One was getting stronger and better organized, but was still very vulnerable to infiltration by the Death Eaters. The Ministry was having some luck in questioning Death Eaters about their accomplices, but was suffering severe manpower shortages as Death Eaters depleted Auror ranks. Children of Avalon were being sent back less and less to the Isle for emergency medical aid, but the number of Descendents in the United Kingdom was dwindling as Avalonian families were either attacked by Death Eaters or relocated out of harm's way on the Continent. Professor Dumbledore offered what intelligence he could from his organization.

"Thank you for your work in the Outer World. Are there other matters that any wish to be brought before the Council?" He paused. When no one spoke, he continued, "Then the Council is adjourned until the next summons. Avalon blesses you and offers sanctuary when you seek it."

As the gathering dispersed, Nimuë beckoned to a woman and her child who had stood in the shadows, just beyond the lighted clearing, during the Council. At Nimuë's gesture, Hannah came into the flickering torchlight, leading her sleepy-eyed six-year-old daughter and a small bundle of belongings, her tearstained face pale. Another woman, who looked to be in her late thirties, came forward to greet her at the bottom of the hill. The High Lady moved down the hill to join them.

"Hello, Priestess," the new woman said softly. Nimuë made the introductions.

"Lady Hannah, this Mistress Ruth Berkley. She and her husband, Master Harold, are the ones we have chosen to be your daughter Alice's guardians in the Outer World. They already have in their care April Coughlin, Lady Laura's daughter."

"Hannah," the Lady said softly, "Ruth has suggested that perhaps it would be better if you went with Alice into the Outer World for a few days, to help her get adjusted to her new surroundings—as well as give you time to adjust to the separation. Would you like that?"

Hannah nodded, apparently not trusting herself to speak. Ruth looked at her in concern as she spoke, "Then that's settled. If you don't mind, Lady Hannah, I think we should leave soon. It's been a long night for all of us, and we will need our rest for tomorrow."

While the women talked, Merlin turned to Albus with a grave expression.

"Professor, Avalon is a highly sensitive secret that is guarded diligently. It would be a catastrophe if the Dark One was to learn of our existence. While I do not doubt your word to the Isle or to Nimuë, there are still others that cannot be trusted. Are you certain that there is an informer who has penetrated your ranks?"

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "For roughly the past six months, information from the Order has reached Voldemort."

"Do you know the identity of this person?"

"No, High Lord, I'm afraid not. We are trying our best, but to no avail."

"Do you have any protocols to guard your information?"

"The Order is based on trust," Albus replied somewhat sharply.

"Someone has already betrayed that trust, Professor," Merlin replied just as sternly. "I am simply warning you to be careful."

Nimuë, having made sure that Hannah would be fine while in the Outer World with her daughter and Ruth, returned to Merlin's side in time to hear the tense exchange. She put a gentle hand of restraint on her husband's arm and then looked at Albus calmly.

"The Potters and the Longbottoms must be protected, Albus," Nimuë said quietly. "See to that and the Source will take care of the rest."

"Very well," Dumbledore replied willingly. She looked at both of them, noting their body language, before saying "We are allies on the same side. It does not bode well for us if we cannot trust the judgment of each other. As one American put it, 'A house divided against itself cannot stand.' Our alliance cannot be weak. It has been long years since we have dealt with the Outer World directly, please forgive us for expressing our concerns in what ways we do."

Dumbledore looked at her solemnly before replying, "I am simply grateful you have consented to aid us."

"I am grateful that you are willing to trust us," she replied, "odd as our customs are. We are an old-fashioned people, aware of the changing world beyond our shores, but sometimes unwilling to change with it."

"Then let us count this as a simple misunderstanding and we will lay it to rest." Merlin gave a slight bow of consent in reply.

"I believe your escort is waiting, Professor," Nimuë said graciously. "Thank you for coming and good night. Avalon blesses you in your fight against Voldemort."

"Thank you," Dumbledore replied, giving the couple a slight bow. "Farewell then."

"Until we meet again," Merlin said, taking a phrase from an Irish blessing.

"Until we meet again," Dumbledore echoed before he left the High Rulers of Avalon standing alone on the hillside.

**

* * *

Author's Note/Disclaimer: Thanks to Ruth and Beth for all of their help and advice. Anything that seems familiar does not belong to me. I'm sorry for the long wait, but I was struggling with some issues. **

Abraham Lincoln (Springfield, Illinois: June 16, 1858)


	6. Chapter Five: Pace

There's A Place

By Dragon's Daughter 1890

Chapter Five: Pace

October 31st, 1981

Godric's Hallow, United Kingdom

James Williams stood outside of the Potter residence in Godric's Hallow. Or at least, what remained of it. While the house was still standing, any structural engineer with common sense would have declared it unsafe and had it razed. Windows were broken and the residence tilted to one side. Peering carefully through the shattered glass into the living room, James took in the blackened walls and overturned furniture. Towards one wall, a man lay in the shadows, sprawled on the floor, wand in hand and clearly dead. A small drop of lavender light by the man's body indicated that someone from Avalon already came for his soul. James swallowed, pushing down the bile that rose in his mouth. He stepped back from the window quickly and turned to face the street.

He swiftly drew the signs for silence and isolation and threw them into the night. It would buy him an hour of time before the neighbors would realize something was amiss and call the police. He stood in the looming shadow of the oak tree in a neighboring yard. James had been instructed to keep himself hidden from view and not to interfere with events until he delivered his message to the right person. So he watched as a scraggly-haired, bearded half-giant arrived and plunged into the rubble, clearly searching for survivors. There would be only one. He watched as a black-haired man arrived in front of the house on a flying motorcycle, angry and grief-stricken. The half-giant and the man conversed briefly before the man pressed a key into the half-giant's hand and disappeared, leaving his flying vehicle behind.

James tried hard not to think about the dead man with his own first name or of the man's wife, the devoted mother who had given everything she had for her child. He felt the lingering traces of April's magic, the spots of lavender light that would be invisible to all except to others who shared the Walk's duties. She must have been there just after the Potters' deaths to guide them on their Walk past Avalon and into the land of eternal rest.

Fate had a twisted sense of humor and there was nothing James or anyone, even the High Lady, could do except to let it run its course. The High Lord had faint tearstains on his clothes when he had conveyed her orders to James. Tonight, innocents had suffered needlessly on Fate's behalf…or had they?

James didn't have the honor of meeting the Potters, or knowing them well. But from what he had heard of them from others, the Potters were good people: generous, caring, helpful, kind, dedicated, and loyal to Professor Dumbledore. They were in the prime of life. Why did they have to die? It didn't make sense. '_Nothing has made sense for the past ten years, James. How can you possibly expect things to make sense in this nightmare of a world?_' James thought to himself as he moved out from the shadows to sit down on the bus bench. He whispered a concealment spell, not wanting to be seen until he needed to be. So James sat, waiting for the right person to come. Minutes trickled by.

Without a sound, Professor Dumbledore appeared on the street and immediately went to the half-giant who was carrying a bundle of blankets in his arms. The professor gently took the bundle into his arms. James dropped the concealment spell.

"Headmaster, might I have a word?" called James gently from his seat, looking like a beaten man. Albus Dumbledore turned around with his wand raised, but lowered it when he saw who had called his attention. He nodded and walked over to the bench, a few tears falling into his beard as he sat down, cradling a baby boy.

"Professor Dumbledore, the High Lady of Avalon bids me to tell you that the Dark One is not defeated. Not tonight, nor for a long while yet. There will be peace, but not for long. The High Lord also warns that the child of the prophecy must be protected at all costs. But then, you know that Harry Potter and the child of the prophecy are now one and the same."

Dumbledore looked at James with thinly concealed surprise.

"Where did you think the prophecy came from in the first place, Headmaster?" asked James. The Headmaster gave a slight smile in reply as if saying 'I should have known.' The young boy fussed in his wrappings. James smiled sadly at the child. Fate had dealt him a heavy hand, one that was both unfair and needed. The Balance between good and evil had been disrupted and it had to be set back in place, at the cost of lives and innocence. '_The Source help Harry Potter in the years ahead,_' James thought.

"You know what you must do," James told Dumbledore. "You have to keep him safe. Tell me, who is his next-of-kin?"

"Lily has a sister, Petunia. She lives on Privet Drive. Tell me," Dumbledore's voice took on an edge of steel, "did Nimuë know about this before —?"

"No," James replied, looking back to the Headmaster, "if she had been told, if we were allowed, we would have —" James cleared his throat in a vain attempt to regain his composure before he finished in a whisper, "we would have told you."

James stood and then softly said, "I am sorry as are all my Brothers and Sisters. The Dark One's banishment tonight came at a high cost. If only we had been able… The Potters were and are and always will be good people. Avalon blesses you, Albus Dumbledore. Avalon protects you Harry Potter." Distant sirens began their soaring wail as Muggle authorities rushed to the scene of what would be taken as a gas main explosion. James murmured a word and vanished silently.

* * *

Far away from Godric's Hollow, in another quiet little town, there was a light on in one of the houses that dotted the valley. If anyone else had been awake in those early hours, they would have seen a maternal–looking woman in her thirties standing by her kitchen window, holding a mug of tea and looking worriedly through the kitchen doorway into the living room where two people sat in front of the fireplace. 

One was Flora Williams — still in her St. Mungo's Healer robes — who had originally dropped by the Berkeley residence to check on Alice as well as another child, keeping her word to the parents of both children. The other was the woman's 'daughter,' who was currently seeking comfort and understanding from the only person who could fully give it. The young girl sat curled at Flora's feet, shaking. Her unbound brown hair was tangled from wind and wet from mist. Her head rested in Flora's lap.

"My Lady, the Potters…" the young girl burst into tears.

Flora stroked the girl's hair and said quietly, "I know it's hard, April…"

"No! You don't have any idea…" April's words were fierce and cutting, muffed in the folds of Flora's robes. Flora looked up into the worried eyes of Ruth Berkley, April's legal guardian in the Outer World and a member in Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. It hurt Ruth that she could not comfort the child she had come to think of as her own. Ruth had never fully taken on the task of the Walk of the Dead. She was only a Mistress with more wizarding than Avalonian blood. The other child in the house, Alice, had been tucked into bed hours ago. The poor dear was still not fully used to living without her mother nearby.

Ruth blinked away her tears as her husband, Harold, took her into a comforting hug. There were further losses in the Order, two more good people dead and gone. _When is the killing going to end?_ Ruth's silent tears turned into muffled weeping that wracked her body. A sob escaped from Harold's throat and he began to cry as he held his wife tightly.

"Yes, I do," Flora said gently. "I too Walk the dead to their rest, April. I know it's hard, especially if you know the people. You have to know the right words to say to reassure them that, even though the Walk is terrifying, nothing can harm them and that those they love will be taken care of."

"It was terrible. I could feel the Dark One, Lady Williams. It was horrible. I was so cold and clammy. When he raised his — I thought he knew I was there and… I thought I'd never see Mum or Dad again. I thought he was going to kill _me_," April sobbed. Flora shushed the girl gently as a tear slipped down her cheek

April Coughlin had been sent from Avalon three years ago to the Outer World to guide the victims of the Dark One on their Walks to their final rest. She and several other children had been sent out as a last resort when the Dark One's victims had outnumbered the number of Avalonians who could guide them to eternal rest without endangering themselves. Many of the Children had chosen to move their families out of Britain for safety. April's parents had refused to let their youngest daughter live with them in the Outer World, citing fears for her safety. So April had been given over to Ruth and Harold Berkeley's care. Now that the Dark One had fallen, for a time, April could return to Avalon once again.

"It's going to be fine, April," murmured Flora. "I'm sure that you'll leave for Avalon soon. You will see your parents again." Flora was doing everything she could to keep her mind off of the recently dead James and Lily Potter. She didn't know them well, but she knew that they were good people who didn't deserve to die at the hands of the Dark One; so many had not deserved to die.

A knock on the door made all of them start, but Flora relaxed when she felt her husband's aura. He had a honey-colored sort of presence in her mind that lessened her melancholy only slightly.

"Let James in…" said Flora softly. Harold quickly wiped away his tears and went to open the door. James entered.

"Did you deliver the message?" asked Flora.

"Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Potter's Walk was over so quickly?" asked James in surprise, taking in April's crying form.

"Yes, April told me that they were quick, though not eager."

"Ah, yes. The spirits of two people full of life, ready to leave and yet unwilling since they leave a loved one behind."

Flora nodded in reply, continuing stroking April's hair. The girl's sobs had slowed to an occasional hiccup and her breathing began to even out.

"Do you think the High Lady knew?" James' voice sounded oddly strained.

"Yes," Flora looked down at April who had cried herself to sleep, "but there was nothing she could do to change Fate."

"I sometimes wonder how she feels about this…"

"Helpless, I suppose, being a tool of something greater," said Flora sadly. "Just how we feel having to leave things as they are and letting them run their course."

"So many will suffer… and for what?" James sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"I do not know…and I doubt that we ever will," said Flora. "We can only trust the High Rulers and hope they know what they're doing…."

James nodded and turned to Ruth and Harold, "Do you know Sirius Black's girlfriend?" The Berkleys shook their heads. "Her name is Samantha Tang. She'll soon come here, seeking rooms for rent. For now, all she needs is a place to heal emotionally. Don't pressure her, just protect her and help her along when she learns of Avalon. Are you willing to provide that?"

"Yes, we are," said Harold. Ruth nodded in agreement. A knock on the door made Harold mutter under his breath as he went to open it yet again, "My, aren't we popular tonight?"

"Sorry to intrude, Mr. and Mrs. Berkley, but the High Lady wants me to take April Coughlin back to Avalon in the morning," said Robert Chou as he entered. "Good evening, James, Flora."

"I'll go pack her things right now. If you'll excuse me," said Ruth, a little too quickly, practically fleeing from the room. Robert caught the tears in her eyes as she left. He looked after her in confusion. Harold frowned at her retreat and followed his wife's hurried footsteps, but not before inviting his newest guest to take a seat. Robert looked to Flora and James for an explanation when the Berkleys had gone.

"Voldemort's gone, but James and Lily Potter were killed tonight. Only their son survived," answered James quietly.

"I see," Robert sighed heavily. He crossed himself, closed his eyes and murmured a brief prayer. When he was done, he looked at his companions and asked, "How did he survive?"

"No one knows," replied Flora while adding silently in her mind, '_At least, no one who _does_ know is going to be telling anyone else without the Source's permission…_'

Robert looked shrewdly at the married couple, taking in their expressions of sorrow and resignation. The pair was among those called Avalon's 'elite,' people trusted by the High Rulers and privy to many secrets. These people usually held the high ranking (and stressful) positions of being regional or outpost leaders or were in charge of workings of a sensitive nature.

"James," Robert said slowly, "Do you remember when I told you about the fact that my firm is relocating me?" James nodded. "Did you have anything to do with the fact that a house on Privet Drive came up for sale last week, conveniently near to where I'll work?"

The Williams exchanged looks: James's shocked, Flora's puzzled.

"No," answered James for the couple. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, I just thought it was a bit odd, that's all."

"Why?" asked Flora.

"Because, I've been doing some research into people's backgrounds and you know Lily Potter is — was from a non-magical family. I dug around and found out she has a sister — who lives on Privet Drive. Both of you know that legal custody of Harry will go to her as his next-of-kin."

"If it is the High Rulers' doing, Vivien did not say so to me," Flora told him, carefully glossing over another explanation that could not be revealed: Harry Potter needed the strongest protection possible, a shield forged by shared blood. It could be a coincidence that Robert was going to be living near the child for the next few years; a coincidence that would no doubt be taken full advantage of by Avalon. But sometimes Flora doubted there was such a thing as coincidences, especially when there was a young child named Harry Potter involved.

"But I would not be surprised if the High Rulers tell you to keep an eye on Harry Potter," murmured James, which earned him a sharp, reprimanding look from his wife. She gave Robert a tired smile.

"It's probably just a coincidence," said Flora. She draped a blanket over April and took her into her arms. The two men sat down, pondering her words. With only the crackle of the flames to pierce the silence, the three adults sat in the room till the sun's first rays trickled into the valley, thinking about the days ahead of them.

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** The title translates from Latin into "Be at peace." My sincere apologies for this three month delay. And thank you all for your patience. Over the summer, I ran into a bit of writer's block with the next four chapters. This chapter tackles a pretty thorny problem in the Harry Potter timeline: the missing twenty-four hours following the deaths of James and Lily Potter. I decided to take a few liberties with how events occurred and people appeared. (This is now an AU, after all.) Also, Berkleys were not in the photograph that Moody shows to Harry in OotP because they were 'conveniently' absent that day. 

**Disclaimer**: Thanks to Ruth, Amy and Beth for all of their help and advice. Anything that seems familiar does not belong to me.


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